The Ashes
by viva0los0sacapuntas
Summary: Sequel to The Burning, Edward's pregnant... what will happen? how will life change for the couple? JacobxEdward An 'M' if there ever was one.
1. The Aftermath

It has begun. XD I'm really hoping that y'all dig this as much as I do. Sorry, I forgot to change the status for The Burning to Complete… but it is. Thanks for hangin in there—don't forget to review. Oh yeah, please check out my other story, Sex for Breakfast and other Secret Wishes... reviews are amazing

Viva

JPOV

"Come in," Carlisle's voice is soft and deep. I squeeze Edward's hand in mine again, it's cooler than mine though not like ice. He's trembling as I turn the handle and walk in. "Hello Jacob, Edwa—" He narrows his eyes before his face freezes in awe. His eyes soak up the sight before much like I did the second he blacked out after I bit him.

Edward was gorgeous as a vampire (no shit, sherlock) but as a human, he was extraordinary. He had the same wild bronze hair, the wide eyes, though they were a vibrant green and freckles the same shade of his hair were dusted across his cheeks and nose, they stood out against his skin which was only the slightest bit pale, totally human. He was still shaking with nerves, his heart (God, it felt so good to _hear_ his heart) picked up the pace as he breathed shallowly, drumming his fingers against his thigh. He even smelled different, like a meadow. I wondered if he'd been this nervous as a kid. He probably was, seeing as high-strung he was by nature.

"Oh my…" Carlisle finally regains speech and stands slowly. He walks over to Edward and cups his jaw in his hands, turns it to the right, then the left. "Spitting image of your father," he murmurs. "But your mother's eyes." Edward blushes and I can't help but grin, he's almost as bad as Bella, crimson pools in his cheeks then creeps down his neck. I lick my lips, wondering just how far that blush travels when he snaps his head toward me and tries in vain to make a scolding face.

I forgot. Though as a vampire, I strictly prevented him from getting in my head, as a human his power (though somewhat muted) was still present. I shrug my shoulders.

"We were wondering what.." he clears his throat. "What happened to make me like this?" Carlisle drops his hands back to his sides and eyes us concentratedly.

"Has anything unusal happened between you two?" Edward only blushes deeper, even the tips of his ears a bright red. I smirk proudly, picturing the faint pink scar on his shoulder. "You don't have to give me details…"

"I bit him." Carlisle looks even more confused.

"That's happened before, in wars between the species, but never with these resu—"

"While we were having sex." Edward's voice is hoarse and soft but Carlisle hears him.

"Oh."

Silence reigns supreme in the office. Carlisle leans back against his desk, and clears his throat, though we all know he doesn't need to.

"I'm so sorry, but I have to ask another thing…" I think that Edward is about to faint from embarassment. I squeeze his hand again before releasing it and placing my hands over his ears. He clenches his eyes shut. "Was there culmination by either of you?" My confused stare must've prodded him to continue. "Ejaculation?"

"Edward. Immediately as I bit him, I was…" God this is so uncomfortable. "a few seconds after him." Carlisel nods his ancient head slowly, truning from us to face his floor-to-ceiling wall of glass. It faces east and the sun is cresting just above a hill outside the hospital, setting the clouds afire. I drop my hands from Edward's ears and his eyes slowly open.

"I'll have to run some tests to know for sure, but there's reason to believe that Edward may in fact be pregnant."

Everything is a blur. Carlisle is calling my name and Edward looks worried, I try to return to them, to tell them I'm all right but the world spins and swallows me in black.

-------*

I wake up, disoriented and slightly pissed that I don't know what time it is. Edward is curled up in an oversized chair next to the bed I'm in. I think we're in his old room, yes we must be, his posters are up and the CDs are still in piles on the floor. I lay quietly and listen, to the race of Edward's seventeen year old heart, the soft snores that escape his mouth. He talks in his sleep, says my name a lot. Sitting up, I see that he's shirtless, one of his hands caresses his stomach, the other clenches at the armrest.

"You're awake!" Bella enters, whispering softly. She comes and sits at the foot of the bed, looking over at Edward. "He was so worried that he exhausted himself." I laugh at that, it sounds so _him_. She takes my hand and looks me in the eye, and for a second I want to cry. "Carlisle will be up here soon." She pats my leg and kisses my cheek, then leaves, saying she'll be back in the morning.

"Hello?" Carlisle knocks on the door.

"Hello yourself." I mutter. I know it's not the time to be rude but hey, Edward's not awake and I'm wanting answers and _fast_.

"I ran some tests today, Jacob." He looks straight into my soul with those eyes and I hold my breath. "Edward is carrying your child."

A strange blend of terror and pride grips my chest. I'm a father. A _father_. At the same time, I'm worried for Edward. How will this end? What the hell will our child _be_? I let my head drop back to the pillow and stare up at the ceiling.

"I know you must be scared. You would be pretty arrogant not to be," I look over at him, he's twiddling with his fingers, fear dancing at the corners of his eyes. This has got to be tearing him up too, Edward, human or not, might as well be his _son._ "I'm not going to lie to you. He could die." Tears leak out my eyes, trailing down my cheeks. "But he loves you, and I love you… don't forget that. We'll be trying our hardest to keep him safe."

I turn away, facing the sleeping boy I've loved for so long. How beautiful he is, whispering in his sleep, his bronze eyelashes long against his lovely cheeks. My eyes wander to his belly. Soon he'll be rounder, no doubt even more lovely. I smile despite myself, picturing him with a little girl in his arms. I'll go out tomorrow and by some books, I heard somewhere that reading to your kid in the womb will make them smarter.

I hope to god that this child has Edward's looks and not my leaky eyes. Surprisingly, I fall right back asleep, faintly aware that Carlisle rises, kisses both of us on the forehead and leaves.

I'm a _father_.


	2. The Settling

I'm guessing that I should just hurry up with the chapter and not ramble on but hey… I cant help it! XD Edward has to adjust to being human again… I really am glad y'all are likin this. Even if u already have, **review! **On with the story…

Viva

EPOV

When I wake up it's like resurfacing from the bottom of a deep pool, like the first time you realize you can read… it's breathtaking. I still haven't adjusted to the fact that I can sleep now—it seems to be all I ever do, at least for the past few days; dreaming about Jacob. I yawn and look around. From being a vampire, everything seems muted, yet strangely new—the fact that I can't hear heartbeats is somehow comforting, the fact that I can be in the sun without _dazzling _some poor girl is entrancing…

I reach out my hand, golden sunlight spilling onto it like butter. _It's warm._I clench and unclench my fists, giggling to myself… I had forgotten all the freckles I had, they were all over my arms, my face, my shoulders, my—where else were they? I feel myself blush at my own thoughts. Sitting up, I throw my legs off the bed and flinch at the chill of the hardwood floor beneat my feet. Another new sensation, this flinching business.

_Where is Jacob?_ That won't leave me alone, even when I go to the bathroom and take a whizz (God, it's been a long time since I've done that) and wash my face. I smack my lips, tasting like morning breath. _I'm gonna have to go get a toothbrush…_ I look appealingly different—I don't actually flinch at the mirror like I used to, afraid and disgusted by my own beauty—now I look like a regular kid, my hair is flat on one side, freckles all over my (thankfully acne-free) face. I'm aware that I'm shirtless, that my eyes are a lighter shade of green than I remember'd them to be… God, I'm reminded of my parents: my dad with his quiet looks and small smiles, my mother with her quick laugh and swift temper… Tears start to sting my eyes; I miss them so much, even moreso when I can rember what they look like, looking in the mirror is like looking at them.

"Edward?" A soft voice on the other side of the door asks. I immediately recognize it to be Jacob and fling the door open, leaping into his arms. "Well aren't you the little earlybird?" He laughs, my legs are around his waist and I'm clinging to his neck—Christ, he's so warm, yet not like an open flame.

"I missed you," I whisper against his cheek, pressing gentle kisses to his smooth skin. He sighs contentedly and shifts my weight in his hands, holding me against him with his hands on my ass. His lips merely brush against mine and it's like the end of my cock getting zapped by lightning. I hear him gasp and brush against his mouth again. The zap returns. I can almost pinpoint the millisecond in which the mood shifts, from a reunion to a lovers' encounter.

He puts me down and pulls his shirt off, I run my hands up and down his hot body, tracing every dip and valley of muscle with my fingers. He sighs and leans down, catching my lips with his…

--------------*

A Few Hours Later

"Finally! Christ, I though you two would fucking break through the floor!" Rosalie rools her eyes for emphasis, putting down the magazine she'd been browsing through long enough to sneer at us.

"Go fuck yourself, heartless bitch." Jacob mutters from the kitchen. I give her my most intimidating look but that's pretty hard to do when your mouth is full of jello and your neck is covered in hickeys. (Jacob _loved_ the fact that he could really mark me now. Really, so did I.) She huffs and stalks her way up the stairs. _Dumb bitch_. Rosalie doesn't know everything—she doesn't know that we actually _didn't_ have sex. Sure, we watched this video that we had made when we took that trip out to Olympia for spring break but nothing else happ--

"Hi." Suddenly Alice is at my side on the sofa. I'd forgotten how fast we, I mean, they could move.

"Hi Alice."

Insert long awkward silence here.

"What do you want, Al?"

"Oh, nothing."

Insert Jacob muttering to himself and Alice's death glare while Jasper laughs quietly.

"What is it? I wanna know the joke too!" I whine, feeling left out.

"Alice wants to help you pick out some stuff for the baby." Jasper calls from the kitchen.

"Don't let her do it, Edward," Jake stage whispers and he walks in, sitting next to me with a plate of food on his lap. Alice rolls her eyes at him and refocuses on me.

"_Edward_, as your sister, it is my duty to help you prepare for this child, my future niece. Or nephew." I look at her confusedly, doesn't she know if my baby is a boy or a girl? "I still can't see your child clearly since he, or she, is half wolf, but I do know that they are going to be absolutely gorgeous."

I blush at that and Jacob beams with pride, though not before a flicker of worry crosses his face. Instinctively, I take his hand. He smiles at me through his thick lashes and I want so badly to not be pregnant right now because theres so many places we have yet to christen in the house—

"Whoa there, buckaroo." Jasper strains to speak. Ivory taints his cheeks and his eyes have started darkening. "Your emotions are _really_ intense." I apologize meekly but he laughs, I curl up into Jacob's side.

------------*

Alice is too good at getting what she wants. We drove out to Seattle and got some books for the baby, some furninture and Alice insisted on picking the most expensive outfits in this ridiculous boutique.

"My kid is _not_ going to wear that," Jacob sputters. Alice is holding up a White Sox onesie. Jasper wrinkles his nose like it smells foul. I smile sheepishly at her.

"I'm guessing that's a no, Al."

But that doesn't damppen her spirits in any way, in fact she goes on to buy elegant little sweaters, green and yellow cashmere scarves—bath towels with little baby duckies on them. I catch Jacob comparing packages of socks as Alice gets rung up at the register.

"You okay?" I think I startled him, he mutters a yeah whatever and goes back to looking. Somehow I know there's more under the surface and I take a package from him and replace it with my hand. "These are awfully small, Jake." He nods.

"I hear babies can be awfully small sometimes." I chuckle and lead him over to the checkout line, placing them on Alice's ever-growing pile of stuff. He leans down and whispers in my ear. "You know, you are so beautiful when you laugh." I blush and squeeze his hand. The ladies browsing through the store turn to look at us with knowing smiles. "And when you blush…" God, I could be doing so many t hings to him right _now_….

Jasper clears his throat and pulls at the collar of his shirt. I whisper an apology and he smiles lightly while Alice chats animatedly, handing him bags full of baby clothing. A few minutes later, the bags are in the trunk and we're on the highway. Jacob has one arm over my shoulder and I'm just breathing him in, the scent of woods and fresh air and _alpha_… God, he's so sexy.

Jasper turns around from the passenger seat and whispers, "Do you think you can wait twenty more minutes?" I apologize again, he smiles lightly and Alice's tiny foot presse down even harder on the gas pedal.


	3. The Satisfation

"And the Yaoi Gods looked down upon them and showered them with delicious limey goodness."—excerpt from the book of Ra, holiest of all fanfiction accounts. Enjoy.

Viva

JPOV

"Edward?" I shake his shoulder gently. He 'fell asleep' on the ride home—Jasper got so wired about the intense FUCK-ME-NOW radiating off of him that he put him in a sleeper hold and –poof- nighty night for Edward.

He's still not waking up so I get out of the car and unbuckle him, scooping him up into my arms. Edward murmurs slurred words and clutches weakly at the fabric of my shirt and my heart just implodes.

The passenger window rolls down. "Go fuck him."

What?

Jasper glares at me and I can actually feel little (no, make that big. And poisoned) daggers on my skin.

"Do it, or I'll fucking kill you." The venom in his voice is lethal, his cheeks are ivory—apparently sleeping beauty is still awfully randy. I nod crisply and shut the door with my hip. I punch the code into the garage since I've lost my keys for the thousandth time and for some odd reason, it feels like I'm carrying my bride over the threshold. I smile gently at that—I do want to marry the lovely being in my arms, I just didn't plan on it being like this.

I get to our bedroom and lay him on the bed. He murmurs some more and quiets. I put my pajamas on (Which means boxers. Usually I sleep in the buff but hey, pregnant Edward + Naked Jacob= possibly another explanation to Carlisle.)and then rummage around in the bureau for Edward's sleepclothes. After a few frustrated minutes, I realize my folly—Edward doesn't have any. He never slept, only watched me all night.

I pull a pair of my old sweatpants from the drawer and slowly approach him. His pale skin seems to glow in the moonligh and as I untie his shoes and pull them from his feet, I have an intense urge to sink deep into him. I try to ignore the feeling, easing his jeans down slim hips, pulling his sweater over his head. I throw the clothes on the floor—Lord only knows he'll be upset at that in the morning.

I peel his socks off, amused that they match the aubergine of his sweater perfectly, surprised to hear a breathy chuckle as my fingers brush the arch of his foot. I repeat the action and unconcious laughter is spilling out of him, making me too happy to move. When I can, I scunch up the legs of the sweatpants and try to shove his feet in. however, Edward's very uncooperative. Every time I get close, his leg collapses like a wet noodle and leaves the sweatpant leg empty. Eventually, I give up, burrowing beneath the covers against his slightly cool body. I curl around him, draping an arm across his waist and drift off into the realm of dreams.

------------*

"Jacob."

Soft lips are pressed against my neck.

"Wake up."

They trace down my chest.

Is that a--?

Oh dear God it _is_ a warm pink tongue tracing my navel. I blink my eyes a few times before I forget how to breathe.

Edward looks… There aren't even words… His cheeks are pink and his eyes are bright, eyelashes long and dark against his freckled skin, bronze hair somehow floating around his head and it's glowing like a halo, one he definitely deserves after waking me up in the most heavenly way possible.

"Hi," I stammer, and he blushes. Smiles. Catches his bottom lip between his teeth.

I kiss him, gently and I'm surprised at his tenacity, how he takes charge in this. He's tilting my head back, relearning every texture and taste of my mouth for his human senses while simultaneously reaching between us to grip the hem of my boxers.

I break away long enough for us to catch our breath and shed our scant clothing. Christ, it's like seeing him naked for the first time ever, complete with the dark brown crescent-chaped birthmark on his right hip, the scent of his adrenaline in the air. I familiarize myself with his new body, learning all its ticklish spots and its reactions; like how if I start kissing down his spine, when I get right above the top of his ass, all his muscles clench and he lets out this really adorable sigh; or like how if I let my teeth graze his inner thighs, his whole body starts shaking.

"Come on," he says, his voice is raspy and somehow deeper than it ever was. His eyes are shut tight and I don't want to take him like that, looking all torn so I reassure him with gentle kisses and soft whisperings of 'I love you', until he stares up at me with those big green eyes. "Please?"

I've never been ablse to resist his begging and this is no exception, I reach for the lube on the nightstand and then remember it's not there since we used up the bottle not too long ago. flustered, i leap from the bed and rifle through the cabinets under the sink until I find some. Praises be. I'm impatient; slathering myself in the stuff, easing in, trying to make Edward form a coherent enough sentence to tell me if he needs some more lube but he just keeps clinging to me and I'm sinking even deeper…

Oh Fuck. I pull out so only the tip of me remains inside him before easing back in. God, I've missed this… Edward rakes his nails down my back. His lips annhialate mine.

His heels are digging into my ass, he's growling—that is so _hot_—and he's so tight, I don't know how the fuck he… he's clenching his insides against me and I swear I could die right now and have been the happiest man in the history of life. I feel his back arch off the bed and his arms are around my torso, pulling me tighter against him, his face is so concentrated, so appalingly _magnificent_ right now, but then I'm falling apart, my thrusts are erratic and he's screaming 'oh-my-fucking-god-jacob' over and over again until he's there and like always it's boom-boom-boom, wide eyes, piercing smile, fluttering-closed eyes.

------------*

The phone rings. We both blink sleepily and gaze at each other, annoyed at the incessant ringing. I grunt at him. He shakes his head, mouthing "You get it," before snuggling back into the blankets.

"H'lo?"

"Hi Jacob!" Oh, lovely. It's Our Pal Jasper. I sit in silence, really pissed that he woke me up…

"Well, good job!"

"Whuhtev…" and I hang up. Edward laughs softly and I turn back to him, curving around his body.

Perfect fit.


	4. The Marking

Hmm. The plot inches forward. Edward is only a stink bomb because well… he can afford to be. God knows he's cute enough to get away with it.

Viva.

EPOV

"I really hate you right now, Carlisle." He just looks at me with tired golden eyes, like a dad expecting a tantrum from his child. At the moment, I don't care, because he is perhaps the only person I know who could give me what I want, but won't let me have it.

"You know you don't mean that." I cross my arms and sulk some more. I _will _get my way. Carlisle's study is the only place he ever truly looks at home, aside from the hospital; with its richly colored tapestries and shelves upon shelves of medical books, the aging bottle of wine he's saving for a special occassion, though I have no idea who he thinks will drink it. It's probably the first bottle of _vino _ever made. I know I'm making him uncomfortable right now, glaring holes in his belongings but hey, all he has to do is say the magic words and—

"Edward," he sighs. "only because you being stressed, on top of being pregnant with a werewolf's child would be even _more_ hazardous to your health…" the rest of his sentence drones on in meaningless blather as that lovely wallet of his opens and oh my God I can even _smell_ the money. He's peeling hundreds out obscenely fast and laying them on his desk.

"Only because you're my favorite." I glance up and find a small smile toying at the corners of his lips. That Carlisle is a funny guy.

-----------*

"Go away." Why is everyone so upset with me today? It's not like I ask for anything too unreasonable—only slightly so, I mean, it's me. Humanized and shit. I'm like Edward 3000 or something. Fucking awesome.

"Nah, I don't think I will."

"Seriously Ed, I think you should leave now." Wow. Seth has become such a doucher…

"Um… no."

"I'll call Bella."

"Ooh, now I'm really scared Seth—youre little wifey might _yell_ at me for goodness sakes!" that was actually a pretty good comeback, I should tell Jacob—he lets me write down all the good ones I say since there are so few. Wait a second…

"Edward, I can't help you do this." Yadda yadda yadda.. translation: My name's Seth and I'm a giant sack of shit because I won't help my bff become a _real _boy!

"I don't want to go by myself, lame-o. that takes away from the whole point of this thing!"

"Well, can't you wait until you know, Jacob knows about this?"

"I don't need his permission for shit! Plus, I gotta get this done know while I'm not too super fat and disgusting to go out in public like I will be in about a week." Seth sighs. Hmm.. he sounds an awful lot like Carlisle. Maybe it's just that kind of day. Either way, I don't give a fuck; I got a buddy to go with me for my first tattoo!

------------*

"Seth, I'm scared," I say as we pull in from off Ink Palace, the only tattoo parlor within 30 miles of Forks. He ignores me and gets out of the car. I take a deep breath and follow him, pretending I don't notice all the bikers hanging out in the parking lot checking me out while I pretend to ignore the vile things they murmur. I've still got exceptional hearing.

"Whaddaya want?" A dark haired 20-something asks me. An amazingly lifelike emerald sepent winds down his forearm, fangs opening over a small emblem. _Je suis Le Loup_. My hands shake as I pull the folded square from my back pocket. I smooth it out on the counter. His eyes light up as he examines the interwoven simple designs.

"That's real art, man," he says. I nod, feeling myself brush and then follow him back to a fleet of equally intimidating black chairs. "Put your shirt over there." I peel it off, and fold it, placing it on We make small talk as he spreads antiseptic down my arms. I feel my feet go dead and numb as he readies his ink and needles.

"Ya ready, kid?" I nod. Seth is still in the front of the parlor, flipping through books of other people's ink. "Just don't jump, okay?" The needle touches my skin and seriously, I have no idea what I was bitchin about. It's like a splinter, well, not really, but it doesn't hurt like I thought it would.

"So tell me about yourself." God, I talk a lot, even in my own head. So my master inker talks. His name is Gregory, he's from a small town in Michigan, ran away when he was 15, joined the circus as a trick rider, got kicked out when he was caught having an affair with the lion tamer's daughter. Ended up in Olympia, then took to hitchiking, wound up here in Nowhere, Washington. And just like that, he's done, bandaging me up and telling me all I need to know about sunscreen and bandaids, sending me on my way.

"You look rather proud of yourself." Seth says once we're back in the car. He think he might want a little bell on his shoulderblade. For Bella. How sickeningly romantic.

"I guess I ratherly am."

---------------------*

"Won't he love me tonight?" I sing to myself even louder now, throwing out my arms as I spin like some lovesick schoolgirl. I've duct taped a few icepacks to my arm, Jake'll be upset that I used one of his Wolverine ones but hey, all my Spiderman ones got snatched by Quil last time he and Claire came over after school so it's only fair… man, I've really outdone myself this time, I got my first tattoo (well, series of tattoos would be more correct) drank my first beer, which was pretty disgusting and managed to wear socks that didn't match my shirt for the first time in… a long time, all in the same day!

Now I've just got to wait.

He'll be home in an hour.

Fuck. I'm already restless and it's been naught a hair past two minutes. Though my turn of the century conscience protests, my seventeen-year-old body wants what it wants and good lord the laptop I am so enthralled by can give it to me. A few clicks of the mouse and naked men are all over the screen. Sadly, I spend my time comparing them to Jacob.

That one's too fat.

Too skinny.

Too old.

What the hell? Is that Jared?

Too creepy-looking.

Not Jacob-y enough.

Seriously, is that Jared?

I can hear him pulling in the driveway so I shut the thing down and shove it under the sofa. He's got light footsteps for such a huge man, creaking th efront door open and leaping over the couch like some yearling. He nuzzles his face in my neck, his breath tickles.

"I missed you," I murmur as we just lay there on the sofa, unmoving, though comfortably so. He says the same thing and suddenly tenses.

"You smell different."

"I hear that a lot."

"No, seriously, Ed. You smell like old blood—we need to call Carlisle," his face is frantic and he's dialing the number but I snatch the phone from his hand.

"It was s'posed to be a surprise." I Take off my shirt gingerly, it's starting to hurt a bit more. The duct tape rips hair from my arms. I'm starting to think Seth told me about his 'trick' as some form of revenge. However, I grin and bear it, winding gauze from my entire arm. Three black bands of different widths encircle my forearm, towards the elbow. My upper arm displays two symbols, an old one of bravery as well as one of triumph. The inside of my upper arm, which is apparently tender flesh, is inscribed with a simple phrase.

_I belong to Jacob Black._

I watch his face as he examines them, the scabs still sore and disgusting. He weeps a bit, muttering that he'll kill whoever gave me money to get this done, as well as whoever drove me to the seedy old place—then he smiles, tracing them with his eyes and I know that he loves my marks, as much as I love them.

"You know that they're spectacular, don't you?"

"Yes," I sigh as he presses butterfly kisses to my lips.

"Truly, they are," he whispers again, pulling me on top of him, careful not to jar my arm. I press the icepacks back onto the pale flesh. I listen to his heartbeat, he asks me if we could name the baby Natalie if she's a girl. That was my cousin's name, I tell him—she was amazing, an artist when it came to pastry. We don't speak of having a son. It's not that we don't want a boy, because believe me, we do… it just seems that much more hallowed and sacred by not talking about it.

I guess I fall asleep, since I wake up in our bed, my arm rewrapped, freshly frozen icepack secured with _saran wrap_ (that man is a genius) and a glass of cold water on the bedside table. I smile against the sheets and reach out, but a stabbing pain inside me cracks something and the world is fuzzy and dark.


	5. The Ordeal

It's been forever. I apologise. Review by the bucketloads and I promise you it'll never happen again. This is some of the best I've written, I think. Memories in italics. I really hope I didn't disappoint. Love always,

Viva

JPOV

It's surprising that this doesn't surprise me—it's as if I somehow _knew_ that I'd find him here, sprawled across the bed with the slowest heartbeat I've ever heard. It's almost as if I knew he'd be screaming silently for hours on end as he waited for me to come home. It's as if he knew all along that this is going to break me if something happens to him.

-------*

"Edward?" I stepped inside the house, a little on edge. He'd taken to 'ambushing' me in the living room these days but all I heard was silence, which is remarkable. I still have excellent hearing.

I shrugged. Now, I look back on it and blame myself. Why hadn't I just looked for him? Why couldn't I have thought for a second that maybe he was playing Hide-and-Seek with me (he'd always loved that dumb game, even before…_this_) or that he was planning on seducing me again?

But no.

I had flopped down on the couch and watched That 70's Show for an hour or two, thinking he was busy shopping with Alice or hanging out with Seth (hopefully not pulling anymore stupid crap)before I meandered upstairs, planning on taking a shower before he got home since I hadn't gotten the chance that morning because I woke up late as always.

I opened the door and my heart fucking froze in my chest. At the same time, I had this weird feeling in my chest—like I'd dreamed this before, like I'd seen the sight in front of me a thousand times.

He was laying at this awkward angle on the bed, one arm extended towards the bedside table as if he was about to pick up the phone. He was shirtless and the little belly he had had these grotesquely unnatural stretch-like marks all over. I think I was already crying by the time I got to the bed. His lips were chapped and his eyes were closed but blinked up at me slowly when I woke him up. He'd been crying, those big green eyes were rimmed in pure red.

"Baby…" he just reached out feebly for me. I could smell the _wrongness _that clung to his skin but I still couldn't figure out what it was. I scooped him up in my arms, one of my arms beneath his neck, the other behind his knees. A soft croak was all I got in response and it drove a stake into my heart. I started to head down the stairs because this was obviously a Carlisle thing to fix, when he said the first of many strange things that he'd eventually utter that night.

"I never got around to sewing up your pillow…"

_________*

I had just brought my stuff from Billy's and it was my first night at the Swan's house. Edward came for me once Charlie and Bells had fallen asleep and I pretended to act surprised."Edward? I hadn't expected you?

"_Oh," he replied, smirking deliciously, "I guess I should come back later then."_

"_No, no, no," I tutted, making a show of showing him the couch I was about to spend the night on, "that simply wouldn't do. You've gone through all this trouble…"_

_And then he was attacking me with those icy lips. He laughed into my mouth as I backed him up against a wall, silently begging in my head that he would _try_ not to break anything, or wake up anyone, or forget any of his clothes, or leave me while I was sleeping--however, I forgot all my little rules when his cool and slender hand found its way inside my pajama bottoms where I was as naked as the day I was born underneath. He'd always had delightfully wicked hands._

"_Come on, Edward… no teasing." I was truly writhing now, I could feel his smirk press into my neck.I pulled his hand out of my pants by my sheer determination and set to removing all of his clothes. I untucked the button-up he was wearing, undoing each of its buttons slowly seeing as he'd gotten quite riled up when I popped all the buttons off his last one. He shrugged the material off of his shoulders and it allowed his pale torso to glow in the faint moonlight pouring in through the window. _

"_You're fucking beautiful." His eyes were greying, cheeks had bright spots of were in jeans came off easy enough, his belt clanking once it hit the floor. _

_He'd somehow gotten me backed up agains the sofa, which I tripped over the arm of and dragged him with me. We laughed into each others' mouths again as we disentangled and shifted further down the couch that I was clearly too tall for. Edward actually rolled onto the floor, trying to break his fall with the cushions clutched in his barely worked, it still sounded like a huge rock falling onto another huge rock. _

"_You're ridiculous," I murmured to him, but his fingers kneading my ass were a little distracting. He just continued, small kisses and light sweeping of his tongue on every part of my body except the one throbbing for his attention. I mentally screamed at him for depriving me of what I _clearly_ needed. _

_His laughter was all but soundless in my ear._

_I took advantage of his position, his knees on either side of my waist, and rolled up over. I handed him a pillow just in case he became vocal. Which I secretly hoped for. I worked quickly as always, remembering how he'd responded before. A few nips to the collarbone, a nuzzling of the happiest of all happy trails and a long, tortuous, romance between my mouth and a certain popsicle later—he was gasping for air, sighing my name when he could catch his breath. _

_I recall that while I was driving into him, pulling his hips roughly against mine as that feeling of light imploding behind my eyelids began to build up, he bit my favorite pillow (an old Spiderman one from my childhood) to muffle the glorious screams that rattled through his chest. There were feathers everywhere. I kept finding them around the house for weeks. Bella never raised an eyebrow._

________*

We were in my Rabbit. It was really more a choice of comfortability than anything else. I'd always felt cramped in the Volvo and at least in Riley, I could drive rather decently with Edward's head in my lap. He kept on whimpering and whispering broken phrases. A few blocks from the Cullen house, I finally heard what he was trying to say.

"We won't miss the last Harry Potter movie, right?"

I burst into tears inside but I held it together for him, watching his eyelashes.

_______*

"_This is so exciting!" Edward was actually way more hyped up for this than I usually didn't even care which movies were playing but he'd become obsessed with Harry Potter when it first came out."Aren't you excited, Jake?" _

_He was clutching my arm, the absolute depiction of anticipation—every time he moved, girls all over the theater followed him with their adolescent eyes. I guess he must've ignored them because he just held tighter to my arm and asking me if I thought the film would be any lights went down and he glanced at me one last time, his eyes golden and dancing. "Thanks."_

_That night was one of the only times I've ever seen him let down his defenses in fron of other people. When Dumbledore died, he buried his face in my shoulder and I could tell from his great heaving breaths that if it was at all possible, he'd be bawling his eyes out._

_We were on our way home, he was silent, head leaning against the window. "We have to go see the last one, okay?" I stayed up the rest of the night, watching the previous movies._

_________*

Bella's hand found mine. Her voice was choked with tears.

"He'll be okay, Jakie… he'll be okay."

Edward was positioned awkwardly on the sofa, he had a fever, the way his skin stretched over his muscles and bones just wasn't…

"I'm killing him, aren't I?" Carlisle looked at me from his chair next to the sofa.

"No, Jacob. The pregnancy has nothing to do with this." Despite his words, guilt washes over me and I can feel its pull on my chest as it becomes harder and harder to breathe. "It's just his body," Carlisle sighs,"he was sick before he was changed and now he's human again—he's still got a pretty weak immune system. But he'll be fine—it's nothing some antibiotics can't cure."

He better be fucking right. That's all I can say. It starts to rain sometime in the night but I just stay awake watching him, listening. He sounds like he's breathing through a wet dishrag. In the morning, even the sun appears to be sick, the light in the windows is weak and unnatural—he jolts awake, sitting up fully and looking straight at me.

"Alice lost your Kings of Leon CD." And if It wasn't for the laughter that triggers, I'd be drowning in my tears.

__________*

"Where the fuck is it, Edward?" he doesn't answer me. Claims that he can't talk to me if I'm going to 'speak like a barbarian'. He just continues sitting on out bed, painting his fingernails an odd grey color that I'd be complimenting him on except I'm furious with him.

"_Seriously. That CD is the third one you've lost! For a vampire, you must have a shitty memory because all of the stuff I let you borrow comes up missing!" I knew I was about to hit a nerve the second the words came flying out of my mouth but true to my character, stupid things kept coming out._

"_What the hell, Jacob Black! It's not like I lose everything you own—what about your damn scruffy Little League shirt!I'll fucking buy you a new CD you overexaggerating little prick!" _

_I was speechless for a few was always gorgeous when he was angry, his voice booming off the walls, fists balled up at his sides, jaw hard and mouth set in a straight line…_

"_I don't want your damn charity, I want my CD." I made sure to enunciate each word clearly as I stalked towards him, reveling in the minute flicker of shock across his began to shake his head, backing up against the headboard as I come even closer._

"_well I don't have it."_

"_What will you give me, then?" His eyes are darkening by the second, only a ring of gold around the silvery grey now. His cool breath washes over my lips._

"_You can have _me_." And I remember exactly why I still have such a hot temper—because it gives me the excuse to be_ this_, to be harsh and gentle at the same time, nipping roughly at the pale column of his neck but simultaneously whispering 'I love you' against the unbreakable skin. Edweard's hands are already quick on the fly of my pants, draggins them down my hips as his nails rake down the backs of my thighs._

_____________*

I just sit there all day, waiting for him to wake up… waiting for both of us to wake up so that I can tell Edward about this crazy nightmare I had…

I try to feed him soup but he just starts to cry.

Carlisle asks him if he knows his family's health history.

Seth comes in with a few spinning tops he carved for the baby.

I talk to the baby while Edward sleeps. I put my hands on his belly. "Daddy loves you," I whisper reverently, before telling out child that Daddy just needs to get better so that he can come home. I wonder for a second if maybe babies cry because they miss where they were before they were born.

Edward sleeps fitfully.

I still can't shake the feeling that maybe this all happened before and I'm just remembering it now


	6. The Ramblings

I'm back. Review. Tell me what you want. Is this dragging on too long?

Viva

EPOV

I'm not nearly as aware of what's been going on as I'd like to be. My head is murky like the bottom of a lake. I can remember Jake's face, his hands, wiping the corners of my mouth and caressing the bump where our baby is. Sometimes I wake from my mock-sleep to his muffled sobs into a pillow.

Bella visits me.

"Good morning, beautiful boy," she always sounds too good to be true. "Are you feeling any better today?" Her hands are slim and cool, removing my shirt before rubbing a lotion into my skin that makes me tingly-drowsy. "I remembered your bedtime lotion," she murmurs. Sometimes she sings to me even though her voice is horribly off-key. Bella likes to talk to the baby.

"How are you, sunshine? I already can't wait to see you…"

But surprisingly, Jasper is the best at this. I can almost always keep myself awake when it's his shift. "You look absolutley ravishing, darling…" he drawls, kissing me on the forehead. This always gets me to smile, especially because it's not close to being true. He tells me the antics of the day, from Emmett's run-in with the police in Seattle when they thought he was a prostitute, to Mike Newton's budding relationship with Yolanda Richards, that mousy-looking girl with the mole on her lip.

"Feel free to get better at any time, prettyboy." He says this often. I always reply, "I'm trying, jackass." Which makes him laugh. Jasper talks to the baby like it's an adult.

"So what do you think about this health care reform?… Yeah, me too… No, I haven't read that yet, is it any good?… What kind of man would I be if I didn't know where Jim Morrison was buried?… Hey, watch it, I'm not _that_ old."

"Stop treating my child like one of your creepy friends," Jacob and Jasper's shifts overlap. "You're traumatizing him from the womb."

"Oh no," Jasper bows over my stomach at this point, stage whispering. "_it's_ back… Sorry kiddo, gotta run. The Ugly One refuses to acknowledge that you will be _my_ godson so I'll spend as much time with you as I want to…"

This gets a book or remote thrown at the back of his head. Which serves as a good enough reason for them to get into a 'fight' in the living room. They arm-wrestle but Esme puts an end to that quickly after they break three coffeetables and the tiles on the floor. The sight of Jasper's blonde curls next to Jacob's ebony locks makes my chest tighten in an unfamiliar way.

If anything happens to me—

Jasper always cuts me off, his body trembling with anger. "You will be _fine_!" and he stomps off into the backyard. Jacob pretends nothing happened.

"I missed you." Jacob's lips are warm against my cheek. "I'll be right back." He leaves me to muck about in the kitchen for a while, bringing me a bowl of something a vivd crimson-orange. "I found a new recipe for carrot and ginger puree. Since the chicken soup is really bland, I thought you'd like this." He spoons it to my motuh and I roll my eyes. I hate being babied, it's cool and soothing to my throat. Slightly sweet but just spicy enough to convince me there's _actual_ ginger in it, not meds.

"It's good," he blushes and kisses my cheeks.

"I'm glad." Jacob is the only one who never tells me to get better. It's his way of coping with my illness. If he never acknowledges that I'm truly unwell, he won't have to be shaken by this ominous lingering fever that rears its ugly head every time I'm ready to go home, or by the odd flame-shaped blood bruise that Bella discovered developing a week or two back.

I fall asleep watching Jacob paint some of the toys Seth has carved. My current favorite is the baby duckling that is painted like a zebra. Jake's also given it purple polka dots. I keep on telling him our kid will think zebras are ducks and vice versa.

"No he won't, Edward." He looks at me oddly after I don't answer. "Are you okay?"

"You've been consistenly reffering to the baby as 'him'. Do you know something I don't?"

"You know I don't," he runs his fingers through his hair, forming one long braid. "I just… I just really hope we have a boy."

"Me too."

"Get some sleep, Edward."

I'm in the middle of my protests because getting 14-20 hours of sleep a day can _not_ be good for you, but my eyes slide shut before I can finish my sentence. I dream about a boy with curly black hair and green eyes playing the piano.

His name will be Asher Safran Black.


	7. The Return

School's out.

And we all know what that means: Updates like Crazy muthaSHUT-YO-MOUTH

So yeah. I like writing sex. Fortunately, my characters also like having sex. That works well.

Once I figure out how, polls will be set. Viva is back in business. The Endeavor was the English ship in Pirates 3. It went BLAMMO!

Much love, VIva

JPOV (Jacob)

"Oh shit." His voice cracks as his hips snap back into mine, he ends up whining instead of sounding startled.

"Don't act like you're surprised… you're enjoying yourself, " I growl into his ear, pretending that I don't love his whimpers, that watching his hands claw at the almost-black soil is not the single most arousing thing I've seen in months.

A twig snaps.

We're still for a few seconds, he sits up so that we're both on our knees, but he's in my lap, my chest pressed to his icy back. More moments pass, and he's grinding further onto me, sending the already high concentration of lust in my blood into overdrive.

The sound of sweaty skin striking flawless marble combined with the way the light shines through the trees, setting his hair on fire, the dirt under his nails somehow behind his ear so he smells fertile and rich and so fucking _delicious_ as he screams, clenching around me as I try not to—

"Oh f-fuck…" and I'm down for the count, exploding like this is Pirates III and I'm the fucking _Endeavor,_ muffling my screams into the back of his head, but all of a sudden, I'm filled with dread.

Jasper tries so hard to calm me down, sending waves of rationality towards me but I can't take it, my heart breaks over and over again.

How the fuck do I explain to the father of my child that I just fucked his brother while he was taking a nap in the living room of his parents' house?

Earlier that Day

EPOV

Jasper slipped me a note this morning during breakfast. And when I say breakfast I mean break-that-motherfucking-fast NOW bitch because Esme has outdone herself. Pancakes _and_ waffles, fruit salad, bacon, smoked sausage, the patty sausages that I can't get Jake to make me since he hates the feeling of ground meat on his skin, fried eggs and mountains of hashbrowns.

I wait until I've eaten enough for not only two but the entire eastern seaboard before waddling to the sofa and pulling out the creased paper.

Prettyboy,

You deserve a treat for all of your improvement and hard work.

Go to your room at 1 o'clock this afternoon for a surprise.

I really missed you. So did That Big Ole Ugly thing.

-Jasper

I blush as I reread the note, I remember Jasper telling me th at during one of my really high fevers, I told him I wanted to watch Jacob fuck him. According to Jazz, I was _really_ gung-ho about it, I had this intricate plan about how to play off of my voyeuristic fantasies while keeping Jake in the dark until the last possible moment.

Bella comes over to help me pack since I'm planning on going back home tomorrow (fingers crossed) and I shove the note into the waistband of my sweatpants. I feel as good as I possibly can, for a pregnant man. Sure, I just got kicked in the bladder (and am now waddling around towards the bathroom) but hey, I'm still not dead.

A couple weeks ago, Carlisle literally came to the end of his rope. He just started bawling (minus the tears, of course) as he tried yet again to figure out why my temperature was 107 degrees and climbing. Jacob, obviously shaken seeing as his foundation, the anchor of this situation was losing heart, did what his instincts prompted. He called His Pack. And they rallied strong around us, copper-bodied with ebony tresses; they filed into the living room quietly. Sam brought Emily. She gave me some mittens she'd knitted.

The formed a large circle around the perimeter. My family was still p resent, minus Rosalie and Emmett. She'd finally had enough of 'this unnatural and abominable desecration of nature' and moved out, dragging Emmett along with her. I don't know if I'll ever forgive them.

"We will conduct a ceremony of tradition, passed down through our tribe as long as there has been a pack to pass it on." Jacob is between Seth and Embry, his eyes smolder but he becomes something bigger than himself as he continues. "In times of peril, we have _never_ left a brother without aid, we have _never_ allowed The Conqueror to defeat one of our own without setting up our defenses. So tonight, we will fight again, for the first time since August 7, 1980, The Plea of The People."

The circle went clockwise, they entreated upon the skies, the earth, the sun, the moon, the stars—"We implore you, he is not ready," Quil sounded as though _his_ heart was breaking. "The tree that will bear fruit is the one mourned the most when cut down." The entire circle went through like that, three or four times, all of their voices blending into a chorus of strength and light and bravery.

"It is finished." Leah's voice ends it with the final solemnity of a rite of passage. The circle collapsed in, they all reached out hands to me, none touching but I could feel their courage soaking into my body, my fingertips tingled, the panic on the edge of my eyes receded and I fell asleep for the first time in a long time without nightmares.

When I woke up, I was refreshed, Jacob laughing through his tears as Jasper clasped onto Carlisle's neck. Esme kissed my forehead. Seth and Bella remained still, looking deep into me with their amber eyes.

"Good morning, Prettyboy," Jasper took my hand.

"Good morning, Jackass." I don't think I've ever seen Esme laugh so hard.

It's 12:45 and I'm on my deck, I see jasper take off his neon-green jacket and wave it at me. I wave back at him, grateful h e's not _too_ far away. It's windy out, but the breeze flows back into the house, carrying me the scent of the woods but not vice-versa.

I think this is a key point in this 'plan'.

I watch Jacob run to him, looking shocked, his hair in a thick braid down his back. He yells at Jasper for a while, before storming off. I pout but Jasper catches my eye and thank god I have great eyesight because he winks quickly, bending down to pick at the roots of a tree. Jacob groans and mutters something before tearing off his jeans as well as Jasper's in a fluid motion, burying himself to the hilt.

I'm rock hard. _I hope he was prepared_. I think to myself, the scent of wolf propelled towards me just makes me wish I was home sooner, in my bed that smells like wolf, on my couch that smells like—

"Oh shit." I whimper softly. Is that what Jake and I look like when _we_ fuck? I can see why he wanted a mirrored ceiling. Bronze hands clench at ivory hips, the cupid's bow of jasper's lips are swollen and look like _sex_ objectified as Jakes arms wrap around his chest, anchoring him as hips snap into place over and over and over and—

My hand is moving blinding fast, just a little longer, a little longer, Jasper projects so much lust and fucking _screams_. I have no chance in hell tha ti will survive, it hits me like a tsunami, wave after wave of bone-melting euphoria. But Jake isn't looking so good. Actually he's… he's—WHAT THE FUCK! He's crying and beating Jasper's chest with his fists?

I run/waddle back down the stairs and into the backyard so Jasper can flag me down. He's followed by a reluctant and sulky Jacob.

"You had a good time?" High spots of ivory and grey-honeyed eyes cannot scream 'I-just-got-fucked' almost as loud as Jasper's wild hair and slight limp do. I nod, and he whispers "Me too."

"Wait, what the hell is going on?" Jacob looks hurt, like he might bolt any second so I anchor him, slipping my hand into his, finding it odd that the smell of Jasper on him doesn't bother me as much as it would if it was anyone else.

Jasper tells him the story but I still blush into Jacob's chest. When he gets to the part about the letter, he tilts my chin up with a long finger.

"You _watched_ us?" I nod, my ears burning red-hot. His eyes bore into mine and silence follows. He then lowers his lips to mine, tasting of rain and sun and slightly of raspberries.

"Jesus Edward, "he laughs into my neck. "For a pregnant man, you sure are kinky."

Jasper shakes his head as he leaves us alone, brining my bags from the living room out into the driveway.

I'm finally going home.


	8. The Comfort

I actually started tearing up as I wrote this—thank you so much for your reviews and support. I would've quit this long ago without y'all.

My cousin André's wife is pregnant, some of the hormonal outbursts are borrowed from their past week…

Today is the one year anniversary of Michael Jackson's death. Don't bash him in your reviews, it's gauche to speak ill of the dead.

I hope you enjoy: you know the drill, read, review, repeat (check out my other stories if you're a Teen Titans fan)

Viva

JPOV (Jacob)

The sense of excitement and barely restrained _comfort_ laced with anticipation is nearly palpable at this point. It's not something you can just exude on others, this is genuine. Out of the corners of my eyes, I can see it surrounding the smiling faces around me, affecting every gesture—it's a large, soft thing, tends to glow a soft yellow and smells like the air around my sisters often did when we were gathered under the Christmas tree shredding at wrapping like our lives depended on it.

"Geez, Esme! Do you think we're never coming back?" She shrugs the comment off, piling my arms with still more pans of casseroles and bags that I'm sure contain nothing but cartons of strawberries since Edward has been craving them '_with a passion'. _ Secretly, I'm just sure he knows that it's really quite torturous to watch his lips and fingertips become stained with red juice as he peers up at me from beneath those long lashes, watching me squirm at the beauty of him round with child, just _tempting_ me to see him in this condition _again_.

After a few more good-natured jokes and awkward hugs to both the bearer of my child as well as I (though the former protests in the way that only disgruntled, hungry, pregnant women know how) we're loaded in the car, food in the backseat, luggage filled with clothes that a certain bulgy someone can't fit into. The widows are rolled down because someone needs the feeling of air on their face to keep them content, and we're off!

The silence isn't tense, it thrums with the sound of old automobile and long, pale, fingers drumming on a muscular thigh that just so happens to be mine.

"I missed you," his voice is so soft that if I wasn't who I was, I wouldn't have heard him. I spare a glance at Edward, amused that I think I've figured out the origin of the 'tousled' hair.

"I missed you too, Mr. I'm-gonna-ride-to-school-with-my-head-out-the-window-so-people-will-think-i-have-great-hairstyling-skills." He swats me on the arm and tries to stifle a grin.

"How do you now it wasn't just tousled from my wild and _vibrant_ sex life?" His tone is light but don't try telling that to the responding heat in my groin.

"Oh, Edward… Don't expect me to forget that I was, in fact, the one to introduce you to sex. My condolences, Sir Chastity, the cherry is no longer." And he's blushing beautifully, trying to hide it with those shaking, freckled hands even as it stains the tips of his pointed ears. Adorable ears that I know he likes having nibbled, especially when he's sprawled out on the bed, wound like a spring with his want—

"A good driver's eyes always remain on the road, Jacob."

"My eyes _are_ on the road," I grumble even as I pull into the garage, trying to quell the length that presses uncomfortably against restrictive denim. His laughter is still the pealing of bells, even now, his face slightly sweaty as he waddles into the house.

Later, after we're done settling in, (and by that I mean after I've put away the food and clothes, bustling about looking for movies that Edward wants to watch '_right now'_ ; muttering to myself about the injustices wreaked upon me by a certain ginger-haired bombshell who lounges on the couch, eating bags of cheeto puffs and watching cartoon network) we sit on opposite ends of the couch, his feet are in my lap and I don't know how I haven't noticed how beautiful they are. Pale and slim, without the freaky prominent tendons that once made me nauseous to even _hear_ the word 'feet' when I was younger—his toes are long, arches high, and as I knead at the calluses on his heels, I notice he has a cluster of freckles on the inside of his right ankle that form a perfect circle.

"I'm sorry," he's mumbling again, his lips and fingers that unmistakable Cheeto Orange. After gesturing me to hand him the can of blackberry fresco that we've been sharing to him; he takes a long draught, adam's apple bobbing delightfully up and down that long throat.

"I've been pretty moody." I roll my eyes at the understatement of the century. I remember while I was tossing him a blanket, he just sat on the couch and bawled, then when I asked what was wrong, he'd punched my shoulder and stormed off onto the deck where he glowered until I went back upstairs, confused and a tad hurt.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." He reaches down to still the movement of my hands and I hope I haven't hurt those delicate feet. Assurance and acceptance are in his eyes, along with a fair amount of guilt.

"Hormones are a bitch." A tentative smile graces the cupid's bow of his lips as I lean over him, pressing my lips to his jaw, the soft skin behind his pointed ear. I nuzzle his neck and he laughs, a breathy sound as our lips meet.

"I still love you."

This could not be any truer, the evening light turning the room to gold, his eyes almost black due to his swollen pupils,; soft, insistent lips on mine and a tongue that tastes of honey—all belonging to a boy that smells like a meadow, seventeen years old and long-limbed, a blushing mass of hormones that I will protect with every drop of life in my body.

"Jake?" He's stammering now, pulling me down between his thighs though this couch is too narrow. I growl in response and stand, lifting him into my arms _gently_; like the weight of his eyelashes against my chest (when did my shirt get removed?) like the way he caresses the swell of our child when he's thinking and singing…

Words fail us now, as I lay him on the bed, still _gently_, removing his clothing with reverence and awe. We cannot get enough of each other, lips and fingers busy as he tugs at my hair, keening and writhing. Minutes pass, he climaxes while whispering sweetly, the imprint of his shaft on my palm. Moment later, my forehead is pressed to his shoulder as impossibly long fingers draw a moan from my very _soul__. _

He's wordless as I get up for a washcloth, cleaning us both off, lingering at the softness of thigh, the shadow his belly casts on his slim waist. I hand him a pair of my old sweatpants, helping him sit up as he puts them on then crawls back under the covers. All this time he doesn't say a word, not until I'm curled up behind him, an arm across his waist, listening to his heart.

"I just want you to know that no matter what happens, I don't regret a thing. Not us and not our child."

His raspy whisper oozes that pleasantly exhausted post-coital glow, but I know he's sincere, like I know his eyes are green and that he's addicted to watching Good Eats on Food Network. Maybe it's just the stress of the day, added to the stress of these past two months, from driving him to his parents' house as he rambled, delirious with fever, to feeding him like I would feed our child, spoonfuls of soup the color of his hair—finally ending with both of us here, in _our_ bed, in _our_ house, the way it should have been from the beginning.

I press my nose to the back of his neck, tears running across the bridge of my nose. A slender hand clutches mine and Edward looks at me over his shoulder.

"It's so good to be home."


	9. The Urge

This is long. I dedicate this to those who stuck with me through The Burning, as well as those who review because it gets my procrastinating rear in gear.

These reviews kick _ass_.

I can't figure out the polls oh well…

You'll just have to trust me, again.

Read, review, rest up.. (Watch the world cup, Spain must win!)

Stay Beautiful,

Viva

EPOV

Every morning Jacob kisses me before he goes to work. He takes my hands into his and kisses my fingertips and whispers sweet words into my palms. I laugh myself awake, my hands are sensitive, the shape of his smiling full lips pressed into my lifelines.

"Good morning, beautiful." I suppress a groan as he presses lips to my cheek, he smells like trees and spice; I'm blushing before I'm coherent enough to form words. After nipping at my earlobe, he'll wrangle the covers from my torso, bowing his head to the freckled swell of my belly, conversing with our child, telling her (or him) to watch out for me, and not to get used to Jasper's sass because 'if you try that with me, you'll be grounded in a heartbeat!' a kiss to my navel and all too soon—he's pressed that final kiss to my lips, filling my mouth with his taste, my eyes with his contentedly smiling face, my heart with realization that he is my _life_…

And he's gone, leaving me with my thoughts, his aroma, and our child.

After a few more hours of dozing, I take the handful of prenatal vitamins that Carlisle prescribed before taking a nice long bath. As the water runs, I examine my naked form in front of the mirror, documenting things that I find interesting: my hips are wider, not so much to make me look like an actual _woman_, but wide enough for me to notice, since I'm doomed to wearing sweatpants from now on. Despite Alice's protests, I will _not_ allow her to buy me clothes again after the incident with the Diesel jeans that bled indigo dye all over my legs. Thank God I actually wore underwear back then.

Also, while it isn't that showy yet, my belly casts a shadow from straight on. It looks more like bloating than a baby, but the ladies keep telling me that it's fine, not everyone shows acutely.

In the bath, I listen to Florence and the Machine, Cassado, MUTEMATH, Kodaly, humming along the parts I know, making up words when I just can't remember. After flopping onto the bed (still naked) as a substitute for drying off, I call Bella.

"Edward? I was just about to call you!"

"Well I guess this is just another opportunity to show my superior skills to yours since I know what you want before you do."

"Is that so?" The smile in her voice is infectious. "Then I guess you knew I was going to ask you if you ate mushroom risotto since I was planning on bringing you some with our Ahi for lunch."

"Oh, of course, I was calling to accept your offer, as well as remind you to bring some more of that delicious sweet tea."

"Mm-hmm, well, if you insist. You know Seth and Charlie have been complaining that I only care about you now."

"If Charlie knew I was pregnant, I'm sure they would still think that. Seth has no excuse."

That gets her to laugh. "I'll see you in an hour, hon."

X~X~X

Later, she brings dishes of wonderful-smelling food to the kitchen, plating generous heapings as I weakly protest for her to allow me to help (I was raised to be polite, but the trip down the stairs was _tiring_) which are quickly shut down by her stern glare.

"How was your day?" She recounts the crazy antics of the kids in town, the unknown culprit who keeps flooding the bathroom with what appears to be old love letters, Ben and Angela's engagement, the cougar who moved next door to Charlie and has become quite fond of him, the fact that Seth narrowly avoided summer school for his horrible grade in Spanish…

And I know I'll blame it on the hormones later, but at that point, I remember what would happen every time _Jake and I_ were supposed to be studying Spanish. I remember that I haven't done said 'activity' for _four months_ and when you're in the body of a seventeen year old boy, that might as well be forever. Bella somehow pieces together what I'm talking about as I so, her shirt soaked by tears as I cry into her chest, wishing I wasn't _fat_ and that I could actually wear nice clothes.

When I get my breathing under control, Bella gets me a cold washcloth and presses it to my swollen eyes.

"It should be illegal to look as good as you do after you cry."

"Th-Thanks, Bell-Bella." I crack a small smile because she's obviously distressed, she's never understood my cycle of moods: happy, a little annoyed, pretending to be happy, breakdown.

"Does Jake know you feel like this?" I shake my head.

"Honey," she runs her fingers through my hair, much like my dad would when I was sick. "You know he loves you more than anything. If he knew you were so _insecure_, he could help you."

More tears trickle out, because not only am I fat now, I'm also dumb; I forgot that the father of my child just so happens to be as madly in love with me as I am with him.

"I j-just, don't… I don't think he'll want me anymore! After the baby, I might not change back, Bella! This frail, human, body could fail me! I might die, and I would leave him behind… I can't do that." Strangely, after saying the words instead of thinking them only when I'm positive that I'm alone, or that Jake is asleep, I feel somehow liberated.

"Edward," Bella situates me so I'm half in her lap, she's warm and smells of lilacs, (maybe it's just because of my pregnancy, but I clearly see her holding a child like this, rocking gently as Seth smiles softly from the doorway) not even speaking, just humming.

I don't know how much time passes, maybe an hour, maybe a few minutes, but I'm falling asleep, sore-eyed and strangely calm.

X~X~X

JPOV

Edward doesn't know I got a new job.

It's probably for the best, I think as I empty out what used to be my old room, putting the bedframe, the dresser, the chest of drawers that were _mine_ for sixteen years in a pile that will head for the dump.

Billy hired me, but that doesn't mean he's back to being my dad.

"Hey, watch out for the paint," he grumbles at me before turning –up the volume of the television. It's almost too easy to fall back into the routine, this is when I roll my eyes and yell for him to get a life and stop watching NCIS all day.

But I don't.

I just trudge up the stairs and repaint the walls, covering the skids and tally mark that mar the odd burnt-orange I was enamored with in sixth grade with sterilized eggshell white. The color was about as close as paint can come to the bronze-copper mesh of Edward's hair, though I didn't know that then.

I remember the almost-gold hints he's acquired from lazing about in the garden so much. The mental picture of Edward asleep in the afternoon sun, an open book over his chest, long fingers on his belly, brings a small smile to my face.

The slow burn of _fury_ directed towards Billy and his blatant disregard to his own _blood_, his grudge preventing me from bringing 'that boy' to the only other place I've called home, from telling him he'll finally have a grandchild… that's dampened by the memory of my beautiful ginger-headed love, curved gently with our child, his lashes long against freckled cheeks, his slightly pointed ears, the almost shy way he peers at me in the shower, his eyes wide, hands shaking—

"Hurry up in there! I've got better things to do than wait for you all day!" Billy bellows as I mutter to myself.

"Oh yeah? Like what, hopefully choke on these paint fumes and die you old coot." Ironically, I've forgotten to open some windows, so I'm feeling a bit woozy. I finish up the last wall, not worrying about the ceiling. "Let him never forget who left glow-in-the-dark planet stickers all over this room." I can't help but smirk, remembering Rachel convincing Dad that I_ wouldn't_ do that, I would only put them on the wall, not anywhere I couldn't reach in my bare feet.

The room hardly looks like I was ever there. When I got here this morning, it was the same way it was before I left; a god-forsaken mess, clothes everywhere, Marvel Comics posters all over the walls, even my sheets smelled like the last time I slept there, like honeysuckle and sweet tea.

Now, it's empty, my dresser's gone so the crack from the baseboard to where the top of the cherry-wood piece would be is uncovered. I can actually see the floor, caramel-colored vinyl tiles (because I kept burning/staining/cutting/destroying the carpet) my various baseball cards collected from the windowsill, rain-warped and sun-faded.

I can't help it. I stand in the doorway, a nineteen-year-old boy who never thought I'd have to do this, a paint roller in my hand as I turn and walk out of a house that I thought I'd always be able to call home.

Driving home, I push out all my self-pitying thoughts, remembering what Carlisle said to me when I'd called him the morning after Billy had thrown me out.

"If it wouldn't make what you and my son have illegal, I would adopt you, Jacob. You're a fine young man with more courage than most people. Your father can't see that right now. All he sees is his baby boy being wooed by someone he thinks will hurt him. That doesn't make it okay for him to do what he did, it just makes him a scared man."

I do what I did then. I cry and drive faster, missing Edward like I've never missed anything or anyone before.

X~X~X

BPOV (my very first Bella… oh gosh. I'm worried)

When Edward wakes up, he mumbles a lot.

I don't mean just your regular 'how long was I sleeping?' mumbles, I mean full-fledged coherent sentences that sound more intelligent than anyone has a right to be after a three-hour 'power nap'. So, in awe of the fact that he has even more skills that no one should posses, I ignore him.

"Didn't you hear me?" he's scowling. It's adorable, his hair is wild, he has a crease on his cheek from my shirt and some lint in his eyelashes. I shrug and go back to watching Demetri Martin's one-hour special.

He sighs.

"Bella," he's talking to me like I'm five-years-old and even though that should bother me, I just suppress my laughter because he's rubbing sleepily at his eyes, pouting at my unbroken silence. "Can you help me look … _better_?"

I roll my eyes. If he wasn't pregnant, I would slap him across the mouth for such blasphemy. His eyes are so _green_, his hair glowing like a halo from the light coming in through the glass double-doors that lead to the garden. I add another reason to why I think Edward should stay Human: He blushes. The tips of his ears redden, as well as his cheeks, he looks alluringly vulnerable and I know if I laugh now, he will probably get Jake to kill me.

So I grab my purse and take him upstairs, heading to the spare bathroom since I've always been uncomfortable in the room where my two bestfriends fuck themselves senseless on a daily basis. Or used to.

I'm thankful I didn't wear makeup, because Edward refuses to let me anywhere near him with a brush in my hand.

"I prefer to imitate," he drawls perfectly, making the sullen little child in my head want to punch h im for being so _beautiful_ when he's being annoying as all get out.

But what can I say? He's done a beautiful job, looking ridiculously good even in fluorescent lighting. Dark blue lining his upper lids, the barest hint of gunmetal grey shadow, blinking on mascara without making the 'I know I look dumb, but I can't put this on without my mouth open' face, his lips glistening with a lip gloss I've never used and decide not to after seeing that it was made for him. Eyes the color of jade melt my bones just long enough for me to remember that Seth and I are _exclusive_, but if we weren't… I would be madly in love with this androgynous boy, his pointed chin and shy smile, his dimples and big green eyes, his eloquence and high-strung personality.

"Thanks, Bella." His long arms wrap around me, his skin is so soft. I murmur a parting line into his chest and head out the door after seeing that Jake should be home soon. If there's one thing I know will break my ever-loosening grip on sanity, it will be watching a pregnant ex-vampire get ravished by my childhood best friend.

X~X~X

JPOV

When I open the front door, I am aware of many things. Two stick out the most. One, Bella was here, and she left mushroom risotto, a dish I can actually pronounce and almost make on my own. Two, Edward is not downstairs. I usually find him on the couch eating chips with a fervor, watching SpongeBob Squarepants DVDs that I gave him for Christmas last year.

"Edward?" I call up the stairs. The last time I didn't know where he was when I came home, we didn't come back home for two months.

"I'm up here!"

I take the stairs three at a time, knowing he'll berate me for it later, but now, I just need to see him.

"Edward, you'll never guess wh—"

He's _naked_, propped up on his stomach in our bed, wearing something around his eyes that make them pop out at me. Heavy heat fills my cock and I'm shuddering. Hypnotized, I draw closer, drawing down the perfect line of his spine, palming the most beautiful ass I've ever seen.

"I missed you." His voice is so _raw_; I can't help but devour his lips, tasting lip gloss? I must've said that out loud because he's blushing and chuckling quietly, sending short burst of sweet air to wash over my face.

I climb on the bed, looming over him, relishing the way the jade of his eyes is nearly swallowed by his pupils, the way his cool hands feel untucking my shirt, undoing buttons and zippers, sliding cotton over heated skin until I'm just as naked as he is. There's nothing in the world that could replace this, the gentle movements of his lips over mine, the slow rocking of my hips into his, the sight of his rosy cock curved against a rounded belly, his face flushed and gorgeous, lips swollen as I file the sight of him into my memory bank.

Right now, I wish I had really asked Carlisle anything I wanted to know when we were at Edward's last appointment. Somehow, asking the soon-to-be grandfather of my child if I could still have sex with his son seemed awkward. So, playing it safe, I kept the touching between Edward and I to a minimum, valuing his safety more than the fact that my balls were so blue, they might've turned into blueberries.

But right here, nibbling on the delicate skin of Edward's hips, letting my tongue linger in his navel, kissing his freckled belly until I wrap my lips around his leaking head, I'm euphoric. I refuse to rub off against the sheets like some little boy, but the way he's writing and moaning, whimpering my name as his long fingers clench in my hair, I was lost before the battle started.

He pulls me off of him with a 'pop' I'm proud of, his lips glistening and swollen, a flush creeping down his chest. Wrapping his legs around my waist, then finding that the angle doesn't quite work, we move around a bit, settling for me on my back as Edward straddles me, one small hand in my hair, the other bracing himself on my chest.

"Oh, Jacob…" his voice breaks as I take both of us in hand, his mouth hot on mine, tasting desperate, lips quivering. Neither of us lasts long, screaming, then shuddering against each other as we recover, sticky-handed and broad-smiled.

I clean him reverently, paying close attention to the way his breath hitches as I swipe over his nipples.

"Sensitive there, are we?" Though at first the idea was downright _weird_, I'm looking forward to Edward having breasts. I think they'll be small and perky, though I wouldn't complain if they exceeded my expectations. He closes his eyes and I wipe at them too, reminding myself to tell Edward that he was _gorgeous_ tonight.

When we're both cooled off, staring up at the ceiling in our post-orgasmic haze, his stomach growls. He blushes and it's, once again, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"Want some ice cream?"

He nods and minutes later, we're stuffing our faces with Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia, pressing cold kisses to cheeks and necks and the occasional lip, but only until we're full and sticky-faced. Edward asks me to tell him how much I love him and I smile, missing this once-daily inquiry and response.

"I love you more than you love Cheetos." His eyes glow in the moonlight, like his pale skin. His hair is crimson.

"I love you more than ice cream," He nuzzles into my neck, his breath cold and tingly. "Even the _very best_ ice cream."

"I love you more than Riley." He's laughing again, his body turned toward mine, a hand on my chest.

"I love you more than the World Cup."

"I love you more than food."

We keep going, the last thing I remember hearing is "I love you more than mirrored ceilings." Before I'm asleep,


	10. The Revelation

Reviews Please? I didn't intend for all of this, some of it just… came out!

I'll leave the polls up until I write the birth, it doesn't seem fair not to let you all decide.

Stay sweet…

-Viva

Also, I've got livejournal, if anyone wants more, just message me here, things will progress..

I'm at 32 weeks.

Carlisle tells me over tea and scones (which I nibble, and Jacob devours) that the baby has fingernails and is starting to grow hair.

I won't lie; it makes me tear up, especially when Carlisle's honeyed eyes take on that soft sheen as he palms my belly, feeling the flutter that is baby-kicks. Jacob hands me a tissue, pointedly avoiding Jasper, who sits next to me with a small smile on his face.

I get a phone call from Emmett later that evening, he's whispering, which makes me laugh because I know Rose can hear him anyway, though he thinks he's the master of all sleuthing tactics.

"Hey, baby bro, how's it goin?"

"Why are you calling me, Emmett?" At the sound of his name, Jacob growls, taking a position I like to call 'protective papa' at my right hand in the kitchen. I know this is the stance he'd use if our daughter was on the phone with a very nervous young man.

"Oh, kid…" He sighs. "Y'know that I-I'm- good lord… " The prickle in the back of my throat is a telltale sign of tears about to make their appearance.

"Eddie? Damn it! I mean, darn… I miss you, ginger king." I know this was hard for him to say, which makes it so much _better_ that he did. Jake watches me stifle sobs for a few more seconds, then wrenches the phone from my grip.

"Emmett? If you're gonna come back, come the fuck back. Don't call him and get his hopes up, because if you let him down… I swear to god I _will _kill you. " There is a slight pause and the buzz of animated response.

"Fine. But leave Queen Bitch at home, or wherever the hell you guys are. The 'long-suffering for the pregnant spouse' excuse is wearing then; I'd like to remain as sane as possible." Jake puts the phone on the hook, running his long-fingered hands through newly shorn inky hair.

"Your brother is coming up here for a few days."

"Oh really?" I roll my eyes. "I couldn't figure that out when you told him not to bring Rose."

"Well excuse me, Sir Knows-a-Lot, but I was assuming that someone couldn't _hear_ over the sound of their tearful sniffles!" His mocking tone is playful, no doubt trying to neutralize my now-erratic moods.

"When's he coming? I don't feel like cleaning the whole damn house. Maybe he should meet us at the old house..." The look of shock on Jake's face is priceless, never once have I sounded so upset about cleaning. Confusion looks good on him, his full lips slightly parted, brow furrowed, eyelashes dark against his bronze skin.

"He said in about two days. So, after translating that from 'cryptic time-span' and factoring in Emmett's addled excuse for a brain, I'd say he'll be here in a week." He chuckles as I swat his arm before waddling to the couch.

"You're so rude to my siblings."

It's true, he thinks Alice is a hyperactive shopping-addict, Rose is a chronically bitchy prima donna (not far from the truth), Emmett's an absent-minded muscle head and that's Jasper's…

Well I'm not so sure. I know he thinks Jasper's attractive—he nearly fucked his _brains_ out- but you can hardly be in love with a vampire without finding other vampires not to be _totally_ repulsive. Right?

"What do you think of Jasper?" I shake his shoulder, amused by his shocked gasp as he wakes from his 'powernap'.

"Uh… your brother?" I nod. "He's… pretty. Not as pretty as you though. Very witty. Good guy."

And that is exactly how he speaks, short clipped phrases, rubbing his eyes then groaning as I pull on his wrist, dragging him up the stairs so we can go to sleep for real, his chest against my back, a pillow between my knees as the small of my back swells uncomfortably.

wVwVwVwVwV

It's raining.

It's rained all week, and the weather channel predicts another week of this blasted cloud-piss.

Rain makes me grouchy.

It's been eight days since Emmett called and while I keep telling Jake to have more hope, I can't help formulating possible scenarios that would prevent my big brother to come visit me. The more prominent ones are: Rosalie found out he called, then ripped h is head off (likely), Emmett got lost, and wandered onto La Push territory, once again his head is ripped off (equally likely), or Emmett had a wicked layover, and would be on his way right now—

The doorbell rings.

My heart thrums with anticipation as I make my way to the door, wishing I had bothered to put on more than a pair of flannel pajama pants and Jasper's 'This Is It' sweatshirt. He bought so much Michael Jackson merchandise after his death, I was worried we'd have to turn him in to Hoarders.

Undoing the locks has never taken so long, but flinging open the door to see that familiar round face, the little-boy dimples in his cheeks, his mahogany hair that is forever getting in his eyes… it's worth it. I warp my arms around his torso, leaning into his usual embrace. He pats the tops of my head and chuckles, saying the unnecessary, "I'm here."

While Emmett gets settled in the guest room, I call Jake and tell him he's here. He attempts to grumble, but I can tell he's smiling. I think he missed Emmett too, he claims there are no legitimate competitors when he wants to have obstacle courses, no one adventurous enough during truth or dare (though Carlisle handles his striptease quite well). I call Jasper next, convincing him to come over, and bring me some pizza, so we can have some bonding time amongst brothers.

"Ginger King!" Emmet jumps down the stairs, I wince at the splintering noise I expect, then catch my breath when he lands remarkably on his feet, leaving my floorboards intact.

"So what're we doin' today, baby boy?" I scowl at him; I think he's stolen my belt, as well as the tie that is haphazardly around his neck.

I tell him Jazz is coming, he cheers, complains that I don't have any decent movies, then nearly breaks the coffee table, tripping in the middle of his 'Dance of Victory and Awesomeness' at having stolen the prize out of my last bag of Cracker Jacks.

"Em, have you eaten?"

He glances up at me in the midst of his apologies, his eyes the color of the caramel frosting I'm fond of, especially when Jacob lets me lick the bowl after he spread it between dense layers of vanilla cake. I try to convince him to let me eat it off of him, so he spreads it on his tantalizing neck, his pulse thrumming under my tongue, the taste of caramel and _rainsuntreefuck_ heavy in my mouth-

Not a minute too soon, Jasper knocks on the door, saving me from having to explain to my brother, and myself, why gazing into his eyes has resulted in a tent in my flannels. Emmett bounds to the door.

"Hey there, Princess!" Jasper lowers his eyes demurely, like he always does after Emmett's strange term of endearment, his lashes dark against his cheekbones.

"Hi, Emmett," he murmurs, going to the kitchen to plate my delicious pizza (Canadian bacon with mushroom, green peppers, black olives and extra cheese) to escape the once-constant source of his embarrassment.

It's pretty funny, how they dance around each other, Jasper not engaging in Emmett's attempts for light-hearted banter, trying to make his posture say _no, don't touch me_, yet still leaning into his every touch, especially when he thinks I can't see them. Emmett runs his thick fingers through those golden curls, and Jasper _whimpers_, leaning into calloused hands before I make my entrance loud, laden with popcorn and ice-cold Coke.

I vote we watch old movies, Emmett complains, Jasper indulges me, and we all watch Grapes of Wrath. As the credits roll, Emmett declares we are 'finally gonna watch some _real_ entertainment' so Jasper and I pretend we don't like Ocean's Eleven. Or Ocean's Twelve. Or Ocean's Thirteen. Sometime in there, Jacob comes home, kisses my forehead, shakes Jasper's hand and glares at Emmett, before apologizing. Apparently The Swan residence is flooding, and Charlie needs some help moving things from the basement. It starts to thunderstorm again.

Later, when I'm full and half-asleep, I hear them murmuring to each other over my head. It's muffled slightly by the continual _woosh_ of air through Jasper's lungs, but he doesn't move my head from his cold chest, his voice beneath my ear.

"Don't go away like that, Em."

"Why not, blondie? You miss me?" Emmett sounds caught between joking and a shyness I've never heard.

Jasper sighs, and it's a broken sound. Suddenly, as if I'm just now aware of it, I realize that while Carlisle and Esme love all of us equally, if we were an actual family, and actual _normal_ family, Jasper wouldn't be related to Emmett and I. what they clearly have wouldn't be incest. He married into us, through Alice. Sweet, lovable Alice, who knows that Jasper cares for her, yet can't _love_ her, but has convinced herself that if she buys him enough pairs of custom-fitted leather trousers, his amusement and confusion will bloom into the love that is being professed over my half-awake body.

"Every day," Jasper whispers, a flurry of movement and I know he's moved me, my head resting on the arm of the couch as they gravitate towards each other. My ears are still good, and I'm wondering how I didn't know _all this time_, that they drive each other crazy. There are quiet gasps, they're Emmett's, but the muffled yelp is Jasper's, it carries with it waves of lust that have me achingly hard.

"Missed you so much," and I don't know who said it, it's lost in the sound of lips and tongues and a heartbreaking reunion because they only have these precious days, only until Rose figures out where her 'husband' is and drags him by the hair back to her, away from Jasper. I'm unbelievably sad for them, but the fact is, they couldn't care less, with the soft groans and the sound of fabric tearing.

"Touch me." The restlessness in the air is so thick, the imagery in my head is murky, so I peer at them through my eyelashes, biting the inside of my cheeks against a gasp.

Jasper's legs are long.

So _fucking _ long.

They're folded on either side of Emmett's hips, his jeans open, cock pale and gleaming at the tip that peeks out from beneath wide hands and thick fingers. Jasper clenches his hands in Emmett's hair, a gasp from those swollen lips that is inhaled like oxygen, Emmet growls up at his, pressing feverish kisses to his neck, sinking his teeth into soft flesh, until Jasper's gasps turn into one continuous moan, his head thrown back, hair golden like I know his eyes are, trying in vain to buck against the man beneath him, but his hips are trapped by strong fingers. I can only catch glimpses, the light is fading and flashes of lightning can only illuminate so much.

A hand clamps across that sinful mouth, and Emmet bites down _hard_, I can almost hear Jasper's sweet flesh tear, but he strains further, tendons delicious in his long neck. Emmett releases his neck and instantly, Jasper breaks, holding their foreheads together is he jerks, ropes of white no doubt all over both of them.

I fall back asleep to the sound of their odd endearments.

"Shit, Powder Puff, have you not gotten off since I left?" Emmett presses his lips to Jasper's forehead.

"Oh shut up, you wish, you Homewrecker." Jasper swats uselessly at thick, muscled arms, which only wrap around him tighter. Lightning flashes.

"Sugar Lump, when we met, you didn't have a home to wreck anyway." Jasper pouts now, wriggling until Em lets him go, he pull up his pants and zips them.

"Don't call me Sugar Lump. It's stupid." Emmet drags him back to his chest.

"Sugar Lump is not stupid!" Jasper nuzzles his neck, murmuring again.

"It sounds like you're about to bake." Lighting flashes again, showing Emmett's contended smile.

"Oh yes… Jazzy, I'm gonna bake you into a cookie so I can _eat you up._" Emmett grins, then pulss Jasper up to look at him. They stare at each other for a long moment, not moving, not breathing.

"You know, I would let you." Jasper whispers. Emmett nods, traces quivering lips. First with his finger, then his tongue. It's slow and measured, with a bitter sense of almost-finality.

"I know, Golden Boy, I know."

I think these words replace t he more important three, but I'm not sure. It never does well to assume about Emmett.

vWvWvWvWv

I wake up in our bed, Jasper smoothing hair from my face.

"Good morning, sunshine."

I smile blearily, intending to ask about Jacob because the sun is up and I can't remember having seen him.

"Your Big Ole Ugly is on his way home, Charlie and he worked all night." I nod.

"Emmett's downstairs, so I should go make sure he doesn't burn down the house. He wanted to make you some breakfast." I laugh a bit, and bite back my response of 'are you sure? I thought he just wanted your ass as a sugar-laden confection.

Jacob comes home, smelling like mud and thunder.

"I hope your brothers aren't going at it in my kitchen."

"What do you mean?" I feign innocence.

"They're all over each other down t here, grabbing asses and stealing kisses when they think I'm not looking." He sighs.

"It's a surprise they haven't been caught."

I just sit in awe of the man who captured my heart, promising to never call him unobservant again.

"I missed you."

"I know, my ginger boy, I know."


End file.
